A Race Through Dark Places
by Skyblaze
Summary: The long-awaited? sequel to my previous fic 'Darkest Before Dawn'. Michael steals Kitt from the Foundation, but faces a night of revelations...


**A Race Through Dark Places**

_As night falls I hit the floor_

_But you aren't around anymore_

_Water falls and I shed a tear_

_But you are gone, you cannot hear_

Author's Note: With thanks to Tomy for being such a superb beta. And with love to Steven, for giving me my hope back. Also with apologies to J. Michael Strazynski for stealing his title.

The tiny flame from the lighter flickered unsteadily in the erratic drafts as Michael crept stealthily through the shadows, keeping to the dark areas of the myriad labs and research facilities that made up the Technical wing of the Foundation Headquarters. No alarms went off, no sensors were tripped. Michael had been doing this for too long, and he knew the building too well to be caught so easily.

The key card that Alan McIntyre had provided had simply given him an easy way in. The rest, he knew, was up to him. But he would remain forever grateful to Alan for giving him his hope back - for giving him his life back.

Michael stared down at the console in front of him, squinting as he tried to puzzle out which combination of buttons would restore power to the lab. Silently, he cursed himself for not paying more attention when Bonnie and April had operated these controls. He had been spoiled by the support around him, had got into a position of relying too much on other people's skills, and in so doing he had allowed himself to grow complacent. The support of the Foundation had been part of him for so long that he had started to believe that it would always be there. That was a grievous mistake.

Finally, he located the right combination of keys to press and the solid metal door in front of him opened with a groan. He winced at the sound, knowing how far that sound could carry at night, but then deciding that by the time anyone came to investigate, he would be long gone.

As the door wheezed open, he could barely suppress a sob at the sight of the Knight2000 sitting forlornly in the lab. The once immaculate black frame was covered with a fine layer of dust. The lab had no windows, but the sterile white walls caught the feeble illumination from his lighter and sent shadows dancing all across the room, making the dark shape of the Trans Am look somehow unearthly in the dim light. Michael stepped closer and saw that the lights inside the dash had all been extinguished. His free hand coiled into a fist as he thought about what that must mean. Kitt was still aware in there, trapped deep within himself. Deprived of all outside stimuli and left to the oblivion of permanent storage.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Michael reached into the pocket of his battered leather racing jacket and withdrew his old comlink. The plastic strap had snapped long ago, but the battery still had plenty of juice and all it's functions were intact. With his eyes locked in the silent dashboard, Michael pressed the two buttons that should override Kitt's deactivation command and bring him back up to operational status. In the old days it had been an emergency routine to prevent some nutcase simply switching Kitt off. Michael was sure that Kitt would appreciate the irony of using that function now.

He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he saw the 'power' light illuminate, followed rapidly by all the LED's on the high-tech dash.

The fingerprint scanner opened the door immediately when Michael tugged on the door handle and Michael fell easily into the plush seat. He had always felt comfortable sitting in the tan leather, not simply because the design of the cabin had been based around his rather tall frame, but also because sitting here gave him a warm sense of safety such as he had never felt before.

Eventually, the voice modulator lit up, and Kitt's familiar voice filtered through the cabin.

"M...Michael?" Kitt asked in a bewildered voice, "What are you doing here? I...I thought they fired you?"

"They did, Kitt." Michael replied as he tooled the engine and began to back up the car, preparing for their escape.

"Michael," Kitt said then, and this time Michael couldn't quite place the tone of his partner's voice. "Are you stealing me?"

"I guess I am." He shrugged as he slammed his foot down onto the accelerator. The Trans Am smashed through the solid concrete wall of the lab as if it were tissue paper, and Michael simply kept on driving. Past the shocked technical staff that were pouring out the main building, past the security personnel at the perimeter who, foolishly, tried to flag them down, and past the main gate as they headed away from the Foundation. Never once did Kitt try to regain control of the car, though he did have a question.

"Michael?"

"Yeah, Kitt?"

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere, Kitt." Michael replied, "Anywhere that's away from here."

Michael kept his foot pressed to the floor as he tried to outrun the pain and the bitterness. And through it all, Kitt didn't say a word.

"Why did you leave me?"

Kitt's question came without any warning, and all though Michael had been expecting it, those words still jolted something deep inside of him to hear Kitt's usually gentle voice laced with such bitterness. Michael inhaled, trying to draw in strength along with the oxygen.

"I didn't have a choice, Kitt." He said, "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." Kitt interrupted rudely, the harsh, bitter tone of his voice even stronger now, "If you were really sorry you would have found a way to stop it!" Kitt knew that he was being grossly unfair to his partner, but he was tired of being the rational, responsible one.

Michael, in turn, felt his own temper rise to the surface, and he had a hard time controlling it.

"Do you know how many nights I lay awake wondering what had happened to you?" Michael said feeling his own pain and bitterness come out in his voice, "I fought so hard to stop them, but I just wasn't strong enough!" His voice broke, but his words felt hollow, empty. And he still couldn't cry.

It was funny how people could get to you. Ten years ago, there was no way that Kitt could have elicited that sort of emotional reaction in Michael. Of course, back then they didn't know each other, and at the time Michael had been so angry at the world that almost no one could have penetrated his emotional defences.

He had even created some rules for himself, to protect himself from the pain he felt every time someone close to him got hurt, or worse, killed. A friend, a partner...a lover.

Rule Number One: Don't tell your life-story to anyone. Especially don't relate any painful experiences. They'll only use it against you.

Rule Number Two: Never get too emotionally involved with a partner. They're there to watch your back, not be your friend.

Rule Number Three: Always keep your distance. They less they know about you, the less it hurts when they leave - and they always leave one way or another.

He had created those rules right after his rebirth by fire ten years ago. But he'd broken every single one of them since.

In a way, Kitt had been safe. A machine who had no feelings couldn't hurt him, and Michael had reasoned that Kitt's loss would only be the same as loosing a car - boy had he been wrong. In their time together they had shared everything. Michael had watched the development of a completely unique form of life, and somewhere along the line he had let his guard down and allowed Kitt to worm his way inside his heart. Michael bowed his head and released control of the car to Kitt. Kitt kept his silence as Michael keyed the radio and searched for a station he liked. The music that filtered through the speakers was soft, melodic. It was a song Michael had never heard before, but it triggered memories of ten years in an almost impossible partnership...and of the darker times before then. He settled into the tan leather and let his thoughts drift.

--

_All those who got an axe to grind,_

_Don't wanna fight no more,_

_All those who got their burning lives,_

_Don't wanna fight no more,_

_But there's no profit in peace,_

_So we must fight some more._

Michael couldn't cry.

Tears hadn't fallen from his eyes since before Devon's funeral. He hadn't been able to cry since that night when the board had come for his FLAG ID card...and the keys to Kitt. He couldn't explain why, exactly, but the emotions he had felt that night, and almost every night since, had been too deep and devastating for simple tears to fully express them. So his eyes had dried, and now he couldn't cry.

It was hard to live this life. Hard to live, hard to sleep, hard to feel. Kitt was right, Michael wasn't really sorry for what had happened.

He was tired.

Tired of having to fight for everyone. He was tired of having to care for everyone. He had spent ten years safeguarding the lives of those normal people who generally lived ordinary lives. They had normal relationships, a home they could call their own, an ordinary job where they would never expect to get shot at, or poisoned, or drugged. Those were the people he had to protect.

How he envied them.

Stevie was gone, and with her he had lost all hope of ever having a normal life. Michael Knight looked up at the gathering clouds through the tinted glass of the t-tops, trying to remember why he was doing this.

A sudden realisation shocked through him. There was no way he could ever hope to get away with this. Kitt needed more than a tank of gas every now and then - he needed parts, and skilled technicians to repair things that went wrong. Without those things, Kitt would eventually break down and...and then Michael would loose another friend. Nausea rose in Michael's gut. He couldn't go back without being arrested, couldn't go forward without condemning Kitt to a slow death. How incredibly selfish he had been to even thing about doing this.

Damn, how many more bridges was he going to burn today? Surely Kitt had realised what would happen...hell, maybe that's why the AI wasn't talking.

And yet, he still couldn't cry.

Rain pelted down on the windshield, and blue lightening flickered across the darkened skies. Michael watched the erratic light make weird shapes out of the shadows. He waited for the turnoff he knew was coming, and easily turned the car around the bend and pulled it into the forecourt of the small gas station. He was going to fill Kitt up with gas and get some snacks before catching some shut-eye. He was way too tired for soul searching just now.

Icy cold droplets of rain splashed down his face as soon as he stepped out of the car. Michael glared at the unforgiving sky, watching the faint flickers of lightning with distaste. This night showed some signs of getting worse before it got better.

As Michael stepped up to the window to pay for the fuel, an old jalopy came limping into the gas station. The car might once have been red, but now it was so covered in grime and rust spots that it was almost impossible to say what colour it was.

Michael turned as the man driving the rolling rust-trap got out. He was unshaven, unkempt, and he instructed the woman in the car to remain where she was with the words.

"Stay in the freakin' car, bitch." He growled as he swaggered to the pump. Michael felt his temper rise. The man's words and stride had all the casual arrogance and barely-hidden violence of a typical bully. And as he looked at the face of the petite blonde in the passenger seat, he knew he was right.

Her eyes were terrified, her face streaked with tears that had made her make up run.

Michael could feel the internal war start in him. Part of him wanted to help the scared woman in the passenger seat of that car... another, more cynical part said there was nothing he could really do, battered partners often defended their abusers until they themselves realised their mistake, and realised that the behaviour would never change. Michael had seen it many times.

And besides, he was supposed to be on the run, drawing attention to himself like that probably wasn't the best idea.

With a sigh Michael turned to head back towards Kitt, even as the jalopy's driver strode over to the pay window.

As he pulled out his wallet to pay for the gas, the woman in the car threw open the jalopy's door and tried to run, tottering unsteadily on her high heels as she tried to flee into the rain-soaked night.

"Hey! Where you think you going, bitch?" The man snarled at her, turning to go after her. The woman screamed as she slipped on a patch of oil, her desperate attempts to escape now growing more frantic as she ran across the forecourt.

"You ain't going nowhere, bitch queen! You mine, you hear me!?" The man said, drawing a gun from inside his jacket.

Michael moved without thinking, grabbing the woman's arm and pulling her towards Kitt, even as the first bullet rang out. The shot went wild, and Kitt opened both doors as Michael and the blonde approached.

"Get in!" Michael yelled, pushing her into the car. Another shot echoed through the forecourt, accompanied by the unkempt man's sulphurous swearing. This bullet rebounded harmlessly off Kitt's side as Michael slammed the passenger door closed and slid neatly over Kitt's hood to reach the driver's door.

"You can't take her from me, man!" The jalopy's driver shouted furiously, "She's mine! Nobody can have her but me! I'll kill you, bitch! I'll kill you both!" He ranted at the TransAm pulled rapidly away from the tiny gas station and back into the cold, wet night.

--

_Yes, we'll keep on trying_

_Tread that fine line,_

_Yes, we'll keep on trying,_

_Till the end of time..._

"Are you all right?" Michael found himself asking when the girl's frightened shaking had subsided. Her hair was still plastered to her head by the driving rain, her make-up running in dull, unattractive streaks down her face, but her eyes had lost some of their terrified, haunted look, and he now felt safe to speak.

"Yes," The girl said in a soft, quiet voice, "I'm okay now." She sucked in a deep breath and looked around the cabin curiously, "I've never seen a car like this before." She said.

"It's a special kind of car." Michael answered easily, trying not to notice the minute flicker of protest that flashed across the voice modulator. Kitt hated to be described as simply a car. He was much, much more than just a mode of transport. Michael knew it, but it was still a trial to explain Kitt's exactly nature to a complete stranger and not have them completely freak out.

"My name's Michael Knight." Michael offered carefully. His passenger appeared to have relaxed slightly, but there was still an edge of nervous tension about her - as though she was still ready to bolt at any moment.

"Lucy," She said, "Lucy Albright." She turned her head to look at him, her grey eyes still sad and a little scared, "Um...thanks for helping me," She shivered again and closed her eyes, "I...really think he might have done it this time." A single tear escaped her closed lids and trickled silently down her cheek. "Thank you." She repeated in a whisper.

Alarm bells started ringing in Michael's head. "Done what, Lucy?"

She shook her head, wet hair whipping against her face. She shivered again, more violently this time, wrapping her arms around herself, her light blouse completely inappropriate for the weather.

"Kitt, can you push the temperature up in here." He heard the subtle sound of the heating jets change in pitch and Lucy began to relax again as the cabin warmed up. "Thanks, pal." Michael said softly.

"Who're you talking to?" Lucy asked, looking around her in confusion, "There's no one else here."

Michael smiled, "Lucy, I'd like to introduce my partner and best pal, Kitt." He said as he made a vague gesture towards the voice modulator.

"Hello, Lucy." Kitt said, the voice modulator flickering in sync to his voice. He kept his voice soft so as not to scare the already traumatised woman in the passenger seat.

Lucy stared, dumbfounded at the LEDs for a long moment, and then she began to laugh. It was a rough, choking laughter - as if her throat was unused to producing such a joyous sound, but her eyes were filled with amusement.

"Are you a computer?" She asked excitedly when her laughter had died down, "An AI?"

The modulator flashed silently in surprise before Kitt could answer, "Yes, I am."

Lucy grinned in unabashed delight. "I should have realised!" She laughed, "A black TransAm, a Knight called Michael... damn, but I thought you guys were just an urban legend, like... like Mothman or something."

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked in total confusion.

Lucy looked at him in surprise, "You mean you didn't know?"

"Didn't know what, Lucy?" Kitt asked before Michael's impatience broke through.

"Your names were all over the networks when I was at college. On the chat boards, on email. We'd share stories and rumours we'd heard. About you in the demolition derby in Silicon Valley... or that chemical waste baron you took down, or Getty Caulfield's allodium... you guys are legends."

Michael almost lost his grip on the steering wheel, so great was his shock. His mind reeled. So great was his shock that his brain didn't even register the other things Lucy was saying, or the questions Kitt was asking.

Heroes, legends...

He'd never asked for that. He'd always assumed that no one really saw what he and Kitt did, that his exploits were mostly ignored by the general public. He had thought that he really was a shadow who left no imprint behind as he went from case to case. He shook his head in wonder. Ridiculous, really. He and Kitt had touched so many lives, helped so many people, had he really believed that none of them would talk about it? How could he have believed he had made so little difference? He found himself smiling, grinning like an idiot at the revelation that his life wasn't just a dream in Wilton Knight's convoluted mind. What he and Kitt had done, had achieved, it was real in the minds of hundreds of people all over the country - or all over the world for all he knew.

He no longer felt like crying. The dark emptiness he had carried in his soul since Devon's death at last began to lessen.

Instead, he laughed. Laughed as he hadn't done in far, far too long. With happiness and warmth.

The rain had finally stopped falling when the black TransAm finally pulled out outside the small house in the suburbs of Pasadena.

"Are you sure you're going be all right, Lucy?" Kitt asked as Lucy got out of the car. Lucy smiled, a faint trace of regret in her eyes.

"I'll be fine, Kitt." She said, patting his roof gently. "You guys have been really good to me, and I'm grateful."

"You sure you're gonna be okay here? He could still come after you."

She shook her head.

"He doesn't know where I am, and he doesn't know any of my friends' addresses, I'll be safe here until I can find my own place." She smiled again, a tiny, shy smile that barely tilted the corners of her mouth. "I've got plenty of friends who can help me."

Michael reached out to give her a quick hug.

"Take care of yourself." He said.

"I will, and thanks."

Michael smiled, "Thank you, too."

Lucy frowned, "What for? It was you who saved my life, after all."

"Giving me a new place to start." Michael replied as he climbed back into Kitt's cabin.

The car started with a hum and slowly drove away. Lucy watched and listened until even the characteristic turbine whine was out of earshot.

"Good luck." She whispered, "For both of us."

--

_Take me in your arms again,_

_Lead me in my dreams again,_

_So what is it worth,_

_Only you know_

The specialised tires of the TransAm threw up water in a violent spray at it powered through a large puddle. The droplets sparkled through the air, the emerging sunlight turning them into a multicoloured shower that settled silently on Kitt's windshield.

"Kitt," Michael began thoughtfully as they left the city, his thumb tapping idly on the steering wheel.

"Yes, Michael?" Kitt asked. His voice sounded... resigned. Kitt must have known the problems they would encounter, how difficult it would be to live away from the Foundation when they had no financial support, but he hadn't spoken a ward of protest.

"Do you think you can get us through to the director of RandomStar Systems?"

Michael asked, a slight smile touching his lips.

"Yes, Michael, of course... but why?"

"Do it, I've got an idea."

"I know that tone, Michael, and I'm not sure I like it." Kitt replied even as he engaged the processes involved in getting a direct line through to the big cheese of RandomStar. Michael's smile broadened at the slight teasing undertone of Kitt's voice. Kitt still trusted him, at least.

The phone rang for a few seconds before it was picked up and a strangely familiar voice spoke.

"Hello, this is Randy Merrit speaking."

The LEDs on Kitt's voice modulator flickered with shock. Randy, the computer prodigy who had once succeeded in stealing Kitt's body. It was absolutely that last thing Kitt had been expecting.

"Hey, Randy. It's Michael Knight, remember me?"

There was a soft thud from the other end of the line, followed by a muffled exclamation. He must have dropped the phone.

"Michael? Is that really you? Damn, I never thought I'd hear from you again! How are things?"

Michael chuckled softly. "We're okay, but listen, I need some help from you."

"Help? Sure, anything you want. That's what friends are for, right? And besides, I owe you a bundle... so, what's up?"

Michael sighed and began his tale. When he had finished, there was a long pause on the other end of the line, followed by soft but vehement swearing.

"Shit, that's harsh. I can't believe they did that... damn." There was another pause before Randy said, "Hold on a sec, I'll go get Tino, he handles the money stuff." The line clicked to hold as Randy vanished to find his business partner.

"Tino?" Kitt asked, "Does he mean the same Tino we saved from those bank robbers? Tino de Greca?"

"Thats him, Kitt." Michael grinned, "Bonnie told me a while ago, Randy and Tino met at some computer conference a few years ago. They set up a business together. They're doing really well.." Michael broke off when a stream of data started scrolling past on Kitt's monitor. The various financial data relating to RandomStar's business dealing.

"They certainly are doing well, Michael. This data says that both of them are multi-millionaires by now. But, Michael, why are we doing this? What made you call Randy?"

Michael sighed and brushed his hands over the steering wheel.

"It was something Lucy said. We're not part of the Foundation anymore, but that doesn't mean we have to be alone. We've got friends all over the country."

"I understand. All the people we've helped."

Michael nodded and smiled.

"It's time we made a fresh start. We're not finished yet."

The End

_Author's Notes:__ Original poetry by Rebecca Duty. Song lyrics copyright Ocean Colour Scene (MCA Records), Queen (EMI Music) and Ash (Universal Music)._


End file.
